Co-written with
just_reading_u Title: Ageless Attraction
Rating: T I guess
Pairing: Bill/Laura who we don't own but we wish we did and we don't profit from but we could both do with the money.
Long winded A/N: This story is A/U but you can assume that most events that happened in the show still happened unless we write otherwise (lol that sounds funny). We have done a few switcharoos with the characters and have tried really really hard to still keep everyone 'in character'. The most challenging being Ellen, but if you think of season 4 Ellen instead of season 1 Ellen it may help. Each chapter will be set during each episode of the show.
Thanks to
lily_winterwood for the icon.
Laura Roslin’s high heels made a loud, conspicuous noise as she clipped along the metal gangway of the Battlestar Galactica.
The shoes, which were so fashionable when she attended Cabinet meetings in Caprica City, seemed highly out of place amongst the military issued boots marching along beside her.
Her too short skirt showed off a long expanse of her pale skinned legs and her too tight jacket pulled across her breasts accentuating her curves. The light lilac shade of her suit had seemed fine when she had donned it that morning but now it seemed to contrast sharply with the artificial lighting and dull grey colours of her surroundings.
As the crew of the Battlestar turned to eye her as she passed, Laura wished she had worn something less showy and more appropriate to blend in amongst the immaculately pressed and shiny-buttoned uniforms.
She hoped that their stares may have more to do with her escort, Aaron Doral, than her. His choice of attire was a bright green suit matched with a floral shirt and red tie.
She trusted the crew weren’t judging her because of him. Especially considering he was the most disagreeable man she had ever met in her years of working in the Secretary of Education’s office. She had been dealing with the man for the past few months with regards to Galactica’s Decommissioning ceremony, as well as the Battlestar’s subsequent transition to a museum, and she had yet to find any redeeming features in the man.
Laura looked down to the ground, attempting to ignore the sound of snickering from a group of young female crew members that swept by her, all merely wearing tank tops and sweatpants.
She sighed and looked back up, only to realise that she could no longer see Aaron Doral. She swung around to ascertain which path the Public Relations Officer had taken.
She peered down a passageway that headed to the right and could see no trace of his garish outfit. She also came up empty when she glanced down towards her left.
In front of her there were two ladders. Had he climbed one of them, she wondered. She spun around on the spot again before resigning herself to the reality that she would have to ask one of the crew for directions before she got totally lost.
“Where are you supposed to be?” a voice suddenly asked from behind her.
She turned to face one of the young female crew members who had been making a joke at her expense just a few moments ago.
The girl’s body was taut and fit, and Laura couldn’t help but appreciate the gorgeous chocolate colour of the girl’s skin. The girl eyed her up and down curiously, dazzling her with her unique eyes: hazel sparkling with amber highlights. Gratefully, Laura caught a glimpse of something in the girl’s gaze that made her think the girl was actually being genuinely helpful and not sarcastic.
“I was on my way to a meeting with Commander Adama in the Ward Room," Laura admitted.
“I’ll show you the way." Then, she held out her hand in Laura's direction. “I’m Petty Officer Dualla. I’m the Galactica's Communications Officer."
“Laura Roslin,” Laura introduced herself in return. “I’m the Secretary of Education’s Aide.”
*
Commander William Adama’s opinion of Aaron Doral was not improving over the course of the day. Bill was now traipsing around his own Battlestar in search of a civilian that Doral had managed to ‘lose’ on the way to the Ward Room.
His hand was on the ladder that led to C deck when he stopped dead still at the view that confronted him. A pair of the most magnificent legs was descending the ladder to his current position. His breath caught in his throat as the owner of the legs jumped elegantly down the last two rungs and faced him.
He remembered Doral’s description of Laura Roslin: "Short, skinny, red hair, white and freckly. Wearing a purple suit. About twenty-five years old.”
Now he knew he would need to add lack of descriptive talent to Doral’s list of shortcomings.
Firstly, for a ‘short’ woman, Laura Roslin had the longest legs he'd ever seen.
As his eyes wandered down over her body, he couldn’t help thinking about the inappropriateness of the word ‘skinny’. Her body was full of feminine curves. Her ‘red hair’ was a gorgeous auburn colour, cascading down her back in thick waves that made his fingers twitch with a desire to tangle amongst its layers.
Her ‘white’ skin was luminescent in the muted light of the Battlestar. He had a mad desire to kiss the ‘freckly’ parts.
Her green eyes shone out with intelligence and warmth.
Her plump lips curved up at the corners with a smile of greeting for him. Next, her tongue flicked out and licked those lips in a nervous gesture. He shook his head at his sudden longing to feel that tongue on his own lips and skin.
“Here’s the Old Man,” he heard Dee say.
That grounded him with a thud. Laura Roslin was ‘about twenty-five years old’. He was now in his sixties and he had been standing here leering at the young visitor to his Battlestar.
Bill tugged down his tunic, trying to find some composure while banishing his inappropriate, wandering thoughts.
*
Laura Roslin smiled at William Adama as Dee introduced them. She felt slightly embarrassed for causing such a bother that the Commanding Officer of the Battlestar was forced to search its decks for her.
He obviously thought she was a bother too. She took a step back at the glare he was directing her way. His face was a stony mask with two startling blue orbs piercing out of it.
Yet she stared back at him, like a deer caught in headlights, unable to break eye contact. She got the impression the Commander was probing through to her soul--and finding her wanting.
She was relieved when she heard the Secretary of Education’s voice.
“Laura, there you are,” Ellen Keikeya said.
*
“Thank the Gods that’s over,” Ellen said as they settled in to their chairs. Their flight back to Caprica had just taken off and Laura would be relieved if Ellen decided to take a nap.
“What did you think of Adama’s speech?” Ellen asked.
“I actually thought it was heartfelt."
“I pretty sure it wasn’t his original speech though.”
“No, no,” she conceded. "But it was perfect.”
Laura had thought a lot about the Commander’s speech over the last few hours. In fact, she had thought of nothing else. She knew she could no longer hide from the things she had done. The Gods were punishing her.
“Perfect?” Ellen scoffed, breaking her from her reverie. “I think that’s going a bit far. Did you meet his Executive Officer?”
“No."
“Gods, you’re lucky.” Ellen almost shuddered. “I think he was drunk,” Ellen added in disgust.
*
“Ms Roslin?”
Laura looked up to see the captain of Colonial 798 addressing her.
“Ms Keikeya asked if you can find the priestess Elosha.”
“Yes, of course.”
Laura rose from her seat to move towards the back end of the aircraft.
She knew that if Ellen had asked for Elosha, it only meant one thing: the automated response had returned a message showing that Ellen was the most senior member of Adar’s Cabinet still alive.
President Adar was dead.
Billions of people were dead.
Caprica and the Twelve Colonies were destroyed.
Laura felt tears spring to her eyes but she quickly wiped them away and squared her shoulders. She would need to be strong to assist Ellen with the task that had been thrown at them.
*
Ellen was still shaking as she finished taking the oath. She had messed up the words a couple of times but if anyone noticed, she doubted they would have cared.
She wished the press hadn’t been on board her aircraft when the attacks had begun. They continued to take photographs of her as she stood in front of a group of them. She wondered who they were taking the photographs for. Just what news service they were planning on selling them to? There were only a handful of survivors and they surely had other priorities than snapping photos of the nervous newly appointed President of the Twelve Colonies.
She tried to imagine how Richard would have handled the situation. He was always so adept in handling the press. “Use them like they use you,” he had once told her.
She took a deep breath and turned to address the group gathered near her.
“We have a lot of work to do in the next few hours,” she started. Diplomacy was the key, she thought. There was so much to organise. She only hoped she could see it through to the end.
*
Laura Roslin was taking an inventory of medical supplies when a young Viper pilot entered the area she was occupying.
“Hello, you must be Commander Adama’s son."
Ellen had told her how Captain Apollo had saved them when Cylon Raiders had attacked their ship.
“I’m Laura," she added in the same friendly tone.
“I’d rather just be known as Captain Adama actually, rather than someone’s son,” Lee Adama snapped.
“Um, yes, okay,” she answered awkwardly, surprised by the vehemence of his words.
Lee Adama sighed and flopped into one of the chairs near her. “I’m sorry,” he said, running his fingers through the front of his hair in a tired gesture.
“That’s okay. Everyone has an excuse to be stressed and tense today.”
He smiled up at her and she couldn’t help but notice the blueness of his eyes. Lee Adama’s eyes didn’t quite give her the same uncanny reaction as his father’s had but she could still see the resemblance. Though Lee Adama’s eyes were focussing on her with a much softer and warmer look than the Commander’s.
“We don’t get on,” he said suddenly.
“Oh,” she simply answered, unsure why he was confiding in her.
“I blame him for a lot of things. Especially my brother’s death.”
She gulped. She could quote him some reassuring platitudes, she supposed, but instead she chose to offer him a small sympathetic smile.
He laughed, a bitter sound. “And I’m not sure why I’m telling you this..."
After a long moment of awkward silence, he spoke again, “We are supposed to be co-ordinating some of the rescue effort for the President though.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “I’ve got a list a mile long for you to start helping me with. It should keep us busy.”
“Busy is good,” he agreed.
*
“Two life pods!” Ellen almost yelled. “That man is insufferable.”
“Maybe we should wait until the Commander is back on board and talk to him,” Laura suggested. “I’m sure he’ll be more approachable.”
In reality, Laura wasn’t sure about this at all. She doubted the Commander was going to be any more forthcoming than his Executive Officer, but she didn’t want Ellen getting too dejected about the situation.
“I get the distinct impression diplomacy is not Colonel Tigh’s strongest point,” she added.
Ellen laughed for the first time that day. “You’re right, as usual.” Ellen walked over to her and grasped her hand. “How did someone your age get to be so wise?”
Laura giggled. “I think, Madam President,” she said Ellen’s new title with respect, “it comes from working with a wise boss for the last couple of years.”
“I’m glad you’re here helping me,” Ellen said with sincerity. “I’m not sure how I would have coped with everything today without you. I only wish...”
Ellen never finished her sentence. Laura knew, however, whom her boss was thinking about.
“Maybe we’ll find him,” she eventually told the older woman. “It will take weeks before an accurate census of the survivors is taken. And he was at the airport on Picon. He could quite easily be on board one of the other ships.”
Ellen sighed. “You and I both know the chances of that are a million to one.”
“What were the chances of any of today happening?"
Ellen gave her a sad smile. “We need to get to work,” she said, changing the subject.
“Yes,” Laura agreed. “First things first: life pods.”
*
Bill walked out of sick bay to run into, literally, Laura Roslin. He automatically reached out to steady her as his heavier built body made her physically stumble. He closed his eyes briefly, once again struggling to come to terms with his automatic attraction to the young girl.
“Commander,” she said in a breathless voice. “I was looking for you. The President wants you to know that she has talked to Doctor Baltar and she agrees with your opinion to leave Mr Doral at the Anchorage Station.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You can let the President know I appreciate her input,” he growled sarcastically.
“What does that mean?” the young girl said, her tone demanding.
“What do you think it means?”
“Don’t answer a question with a question,” she shot back immediately.
He glared at her. Laura Roslin was only an assistant to a glorified school teacher. She’d only been out of school herself a couple of short years. Both her life and work experience had to be limited and yet, for all this, she had the audacity to throw smart comments his way.
He’d have to concede though, the girl definitely had backbone to even attempt to verbally spar with him.
“I think,” he said in a slow tone, “your job is to convey my words back to the President. Any double meaning that may or may not be contained within them is none of your business.”
With that he turned on his heel and left her standing there.
He had won this round but he was sure she would climb back in the ring to spar with him again. He actually found himself looking forward to it.
*
Commander Adama and his senior crew were gathered around the Situation Table in the CIC of Galactica when he caught a glimpse of red out of the corner of his eye.
He watched as the newly-sworn-in President’s Aide talked to Dee.
She was so young.
They all were, he realised.
They had their whole lives ahead of them. Marriage and children; he’d done that. He’d failed at both, but the young survivors deserved a chance to do it right.
He'd taken an oath to protect them all.
Maybe if he saved them, he would also get a second chance.
“We’d better start having babies,” he murmured aloud.
He suddenly had a vivid image of Laura Roslin’s body changing shape due to pregnancy. Her body swelling because his seed grew inside of her. He imagined her nursing a baby; their baby. Her beautiful hair would create a shield for her breasts against any unwanted prying eyes. He would watch though, and she would smile up at him as he did--a special smile that she would reserve only for him.
“Sir,” Gaeta said sharply, obviously not for the first time.
He looked back at his crew members and told them his decision: they would run from the Cylons.
Later, Saul would ask him what had changed his mind. There was no way he would be able to tell even his best friend of his ridiculous image that had tipped the scales.
Later, he wouldn’t even admit to himself the full extent of his daydream. Instead, he would blame the stress and trauma of the ordeal they had dealt with over the course of the day.
*
Prior to the attacks, Laura and the Commander had argued regarding the computer networking on Galactica.
In fact, their debate had got so heated, Ellen had stepped in and told them both to take a break. They'd decided the subject could be brought up at a later date. Adama had snapped “no it won’t”, but both her and Ellen had remained quiet, assuming the battle could be deliberated at another time.
Of course, now it never would.
He had been correct and his stubbornness had saved them from the Cylon attack. She should apologise to him and acknowledge this fact, but instead she was now accusing him of lying.
Laura berated herself. It would have been too simple for her to merely deliver the President’s Action Plan to his quarters and leave again. No, she started a new conversation about the existence of Earth.
She should never had told him that she and President Adar had discussed the myth. Her only saving grace was that he didn't seem overly angry at her. He was, however, confused as to why she'd had such intimate conversations with the former president.
“You knew President Adar well?” he asked.
“Sort of," she replied, turning to leave. She could effectively end their conversation and thus avoid the subject.
“I don’t remember dismissing you, Ms Roslin,” he bit out, his voice deceptively quiet.
Her back stiffened. She took the cowardly way out and never turned to face him and his probing eyes.
“I don’t remember enlisting in the military, Commander, and therefore, I don’t believe I need to be dismissed.”
Her heart pumped wildly as she fled his quarters, even though she had claimed the final word.
*
“What’s that?” Ellen Keikeya asked.
Laura was struggling with a whiteboard.
“A whiteboard,” she answered. “I got it from Galactica," she went on. "It was in their wardroom and Lieutenant Gaeta said I could take it.”
“Well, I know it’s a whiteboard, dear, I’m not that obtuse, but I meant what is it for?” Ellen asked. “Colonial One is crowded enough without adding extra pieces of furniture.”
Ellen watched as Laura took out a marker, uncapped it and wrote a number in large letters on the board.
“50,298,” she read. “What’s that?”
“That’s the number of people left in the Fleet,” Laura explained. “All of humanity that survives. That’s the number we have to protect. That’s the number that we have to find a way to increase. If we write it here, it’s real. We can see it everyday and we won’t forget. Even when we don’t want the burden of responsibility that has been thrust upon us any longer, we can look at this number and realise that we have to.”
Ellen remained silent for a long moment before she eventually smiled across at Laura and murmured, "Yes, the whiteboard can stay."
Next chapter